


Dinner Invitation

by eledhwenlin



Series: cooking class [3]
Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is going to cook a stupid dinner for Brendon and Spencer. Maybe he needs a little bit of help with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/gifts).



> Written for Turps's Bandom Kissing Meme.

"You know we would come over just for pizza and beer, too, right?" Spencer's voice sounds tinny on the other end of the phone line.

"Yeah," Ryan says. He's a little bit distracted. He doesn't think the zucchini is supposed to be quite this ... pulpy.

Brendon says something in the background, but Ryan can't make out what. He doesn't care, he was probably just insulting Ryan's prowess in the kitchen. Brendon was very reluctant when Ryan offered to make them dinner. Ryan doesn't get it. He hasn't set the kitchen on fire since he started his cooking class.

"Brendon's right," Spencer says, "if we turn up and it's inedible and we have to order pizza anyway, we'll laugh. Just so you know."

"You're a bad best friend," Ryan tells him. "I will make this delicious food and then I won't share it with you because you're such doubting thomases."

"We have the pizza place on speed dial," Brendon says.

"Yep," Spencer says.

Ryan hangs up quickly because if Brendon's close enough to speak into Spencer's phone, it's definitely time for him to go. He stares at the sauce. He might be wrong about the zucchini, but that sauce is _definitely_ not going to be a brownish colour.

It's maybe time to call in the cavalry.

Mikey sounds a tiny bit amused on the phone, but he still turns up at Ryan's place an hour later with all the ingredients Ryan asked him to get. "You owe me 30 bucks," he says.

"My wallet's in the kitchen," Ryan says and hurries to get it. Mikey follows him at much more sedate place.

Ryan's digging through his bag for his wallet, when he realises that Mikey's standing in the door frame. And he's staring at Ryan's kitchen. "What?"

"Did a bomb explode here?" Mikey slowly moves toward the oven, like he's afraid it might actually blow up. "Frank once pulled this prank with dry ice and a portable WC and the result looked a lot like what's in that pot there."

"That is a zucchini-asparagus stew," Ryan says.

"Are you sure?" Mikey glances at the pot. "Cause it looks like it's about to become alive."

"Fuck you," Ryan says, but even he can't put much heat into it. Neither the zucchini nor the asparagus was that colour when he put it into the pot.

Ryan thinks it's all the fault of the cumin. Maybe he put a lot of it in. Or the soy sauce. That, too.

Mikey does not actually make a face when he smells the pot. It makes Ryan love him a little bit because the reason why Ryan hasn't thrown away that pot yet is that he gags every time he steps toward the oven.  
It reeks like it died days ago. Mikey's way more hardcore than Ryan. (Ryan thinks that's Gerard's fault. Mikey's lived in a van with four other guys--Ryan only had Spencer who's a fucking mastermind in finding shower opportunities and Brendon who HAS to shower after every show and Brent was a tad vain.)

"Uhm," Ryan says. "Let's throw that away."

Mikey nods. "Let's do that."

Ten minutes later nothing remains of the disaster that was Ryan's first foray in cooking dinner. It's a tiny bit troubling--Ryan has already improved so much in class. He hasn't cut himself with the  
knife in ages.

Mikey's good to work with because he's quiet. It's easier to think when Mikey's right there, cutting olives in half.

"So, Mikey starts, "explain to me why you're cooking dinner."

"I invited Spencer and Brendon for dinner," Ryan says. "Grown-up people do that."

"Yeah," Mikey says slowly. "But why you?"

Ryan shrugs. He doesn't quite know how to say it. It's just--it's weird right now. Spencer and Brendon are in that weird phase of honeymooning where they're building like a love den, all warm and comfortable and _home_. It seems like whenever Ryan gets up the courage to call, Spencer's cooking dinner. Rationally he knows that Spencer's known how to cook since high school, that Ginger taught him how, and that's just something Spencer does. Except for how they didn't talk for a few months there and they're just rebuilding their friendship for real, and every time Ryan looks at Spencer and Brendon, he sees all the time he wasn't there. It hurts that he wasn't there to  
see them finally act on their feelings. It hurts to think that maybe Ryan had to leave so that they could.

Ryan just wants them all to be friends and maybe he wants to show them that he's able to manage on his own. Just a little bit. "Just wanted to," Ryan says in a tight voice.

"Hey." Mikey bumps Ryan's hip. Ryan looks up and catches Mikey grinning at him. "Wait, you got something there." Mikey reaches up and wipes something from Ryan's cheek. Except for how he forgets to take his hand away.

"Hi," Ryan says and his throat is dry and he has to swallow before any sound will come out.

"Hey." Mikey's close, he wasn't that close before, and he's _looking_ at Ryan and Ryan's heart starts beating very, very fast.

Mikey's lips are dry and soft. He kisses slow and gentle, so different from anyone else Ryan's kissed recently. Mikey doesn't let Ryan push him, though, keeps the kiss sweet and shallow.

Ryan maybe kind of wants to press Mikey against the counter and see what he needs to do to get Mikey to kiss him hard.

"Hey," Mikey says again, against Ryan's lips.

Ryan smiles, despite himself. "You're a good conversationalist," he says.

"Fuck you," Mikey says. He kisses Ryan again. Ryan maybe clings a little, lets Mikey's calm sweep over him. He feels better when they break for air next.

"Hi," Ryan says this time. Mikey's lips are red and a bit swollen, and Ryan's brain is kind of stuck on that.

"Now who's eloquent?" Mikey says grinning.

Ryan leans in for another kiss, but then the door bell rings, the door opens and Brendon yells, "Honey, we're home!"

"Fuck!" Ryan lets go of Mikey. "The food isn't ready and they're already here and _fuck_ \--"

"Did we interrupt something?" Spencer's eyeing Mikey and Ryan, but he doesn't let on what he's feeling.

"Um, no."

"We were making dinner," Mikey says stoically, and Ryan could kiss him again. When he considers that he might get to later, he can't suppress a grin.

"Suuure," Brendon says. He's grinning. "Just like Spencer and I did not at all give each other blow jobs before we left because we couldn't wait until tonight."

Ryan groans. "Oversharing!"

"Brendon!" Spencer sounds chastising, but he's also blushing a bit, so it's _true_ and, fuck, Ryan will never get that image out of his brain.

Brendon beams, unabashed. Ryan maybe hates him a little bit.

Mikey leans in close. "If you make it through this dinner," he says, "maybe _we_ could do that mutual blow job thing."

Ryan grins. That he can totally do.


End file.
